The Kingmaker (ON HIATUS)
by The Muses of FanFiction
Summary: When Prince Jordan announces his Selection, no one in Illéa expected to play host to his childhood friend's Selection as well. And behind the curtains of this play is the mastermind known as Persia Schreave, Jordan's little sister. As the world watches the Selections unfold, Princess Persia has one mission. To make Kings fit to rule out of these two Royals. FEMALE & MALE SYOC OPEN.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

* * *

The package stared at him, begging to be open. Knowing Chamomile, Jordan had a pretty good idea what she sent this time. If the smell of vanilla didn't give it away then the crumbling rattle of handmade cookies did. With his initialed letter opener, a rather joking gift from Persia, he sliced the tape and ripped open the cardboard. Three rather full tupperwares greeted him and a large postcard sat right on top.

_Hey, Jordan!_

_Miles here! Thanks for the tea set. It was a really thoughtful gift. Plus a great addition to my collection. You and Persia really outdid yourselves. Feels strange to be nineteen. Nothing new but the added pressure of maturity, I guess. Dad is already talking to me about a Selection. This has me all jittery with nerves. Do you think I'll actually find "The One"? You have to know that you, Persia, and Sahara get to make all the complaints y'all want when I send them the files. I'll take their advice over some dusty old politicians butting in._

_Oh! And happy early birthday! I know it's weeks early, but knowing weather patterns in Chastain it's best to send my regards ahead of time. I'm definitely attending! Your father already sent me an early invite. Do give Sahara and your parents a hug from me._

_Love, Miles_

The Selection. Not something he was particularly excited about. For either of them. The thought of Miles showing up with a stranger to introduce made him flinch. He could almost hear his sister now, taunting him over his little schoolboy crush.

"This sucks," he breathed, grabbing a cookie from the tupperware.

He knew that his Selection might as well be a train wreck. Jordan tried many times to date and be like a cliché prince. So far, he had managed to make himself out to be a problem prince rather than a cool one. Perhaps Persia was right. He really needed to man up. And that meant facing the fact that Miles was heir to her country and that meant his chances would remain non-existent. Glancing at his calendar, the glittery flower sticker Sahara had pinned on June 19th glared at him like impending doom. First, he had to make it through his birthday. Then he could worry about finding his future Queen.

Maybe Persia had a solution to all this madness…

* * *

**Authors' Notes**

**Muse Thalia: _Hi! It's Muse Thalia. I'm here to announce the Muses' first Selection FanFic. This is set in a lovely alternate universe where the amazing Queen Amberly actually had a son survive before Maxon(We have affectionately named this older brother Hamish) and now the older brother took the throne while Maxon got to relax and not go through drama. Hamish is the great-great grandfather of Prince Jordan here. _**

_**This is an SYOC, so we would love submissions! We have made a beautiful info haven with the form on our profile. We need lovely ladies and lords for Jordan and Chamomile, our awkward set of best friends. Please save Jordan! Miles is DENSE! And he is just…. Doing everything wrong. Persia needs help! Help her save Jordan!**_

**Muse Calliope: _I get to be responsible for Persia. Proud of the girl, but she definitely needs the help. You'll see. I'm the Muse Calliope; I'm supposed to be responsible for Epics. I, for one, would like to think this holds some promise. So, we have the SYOC, as Thal mentioned, and all the information for it, please consider it. (Word to the wise, you earn cookies with us through originality and detail)_**

**Muse Thalia****: **_**Disclaimer Alert! Nothing in here is real. Complete fiction based of the Selection Series. Beware that as we go, Extremists and Assassins plus ultra awkwardness and dorkiness will be happening. The occasional T-Rated Cursing may happen too. I suggested we blip out the cussing with G-Rated Versions, but that is too cheeseball. Heeheehee. You have been advised!**_

**Muse Calliope: _Well, to the more basic - please review, follow/favorite, and submit, if it strikes your fancy.  
More to come. _**


	2. Chapter One

**CHAPTER ONE: DEAR PERSIA**

* * *

_The snow stood frozen in air._

This was the last snow of the season, this time she was sure of it. They told her it would be the one before; the three inches mid-April that stayed to blanket the ground for weeks, and then in spite of them this final fall had come like a gift the very last day of May. A week later, it was only just starting to mush.

The rest of the Backside 900 passed as easily as breathing, a once disorienting impact with the side of the pipe painless, the board sure beneath her feet. The following Crippler was nothing; every motion brought polished and sharp after the preceding months of obsessive practice.

They were a necessity she would never have told anyone else to forgo, but Persia loathed the weight of the helmet and heavy goggles. In the air, it was as though board and bindings and layers were part of her own body; comfortably aware of every inch. By comparison, helmet and goggles were a jarring weight and unwelcome burden. Persia lived for the rush of clean air in her face, its playful tugging at her hair. No inversion could make her sick now.

They brought her to life, like nothing else ever would.

Gray Crown had the best halfpipe anywhere in the northern provinces. Persia had run every last one of them.

The heat of a summer in Angeles was wretched. Winter was bearable, even pleasant, but once Christmas was over, Persia also began her longest stretch of time away; a full four months. Away from her father and mother and their masses of tutors, from Jordan and his scandal, and Sahara.

Liberating was _not_ the right word, and she could never have used it even if it were.

That was what she was told, microphones thrust into her face.

_Running away._

She answered their questions, didn't she?

Her brother was a considerable presence in Angeles, even without being the crown prince; Jordan had a way of making himself known. Even here, where she had to fight to pretend as though she were half a world away, it was like being wrenched straight back into it every time she opened a magazine to find his smirking face plastered across its glossy pages. People loved to talk. The clamor was just as stifling.

If she _were_ running away, she'd have done better than this. She wasn't even managing to avoid her own family.

_If_ she were running.

When she pulled off the tinted goggles, Stefan's grin was brighter than the snow. "Having fun, dear cousin?" Beck jumped up at his side, her tail brushing through the air and throwing up powder.

"Less so, with you standing around there." Persia removed the helmet before continuing, her board gliding smoothly over the snow at the mouth of the pipe. "In the last snow of the season. What a waste."

"Not like I had much choice. No need to get myself into trouble because I managed to crash into the first princess while sharing the pipe."

"I would never let that happen." She scoffed "Excuses." She bent at the knees to undo the bindings over her boots. The silver and bronze patterns against the black board caught in the sunlight - As intended. All the other boards for rent at Gray Crown bore the same pattern, printed against pale blue to dampen their shine. "I'm done now." She pointed out, standing. The dog danced at her heels. "If you were planning to take your turn, you'd be up there already."

"You caught me." Stefan shrugged, his face not at all abashed. "You seemed a little dazed up there. Penny for your thoughts?"

_Dazed?_ "That's the best you can do?" She asked, faking an offense where there was none. She moved off to the side, ever-conscious of the next shredder waiting at the top of the pipe and leaving him to follow. _Like the dog_, Persia thought, her brief smile overshadowed by the pines overhead.

"A dime and not a cent more. You'll break me."

Persia shook her head, eyes slanting as she tried not to look overly amused. "My brother will be married soon. Your cousin." She added helpfully.

"Marrying? Huh." Stefan wrinkled his nose seemingly at the idea. "Never thought I'd live to see the day. And to whom? I can't keep track of his… Flames."

Anyone else, and the twitching at her mouth would have been knotting itself into a scowl. Instead she was tampering down what she was sure he knew would have become a laugh. "I wouldn't know." And because it was him, "Neither would he."

"Ah… It's that _time_, huh?" He said it like he was truly hoping she would choose to seek out the active suggestion beneath his tone. "Wow. He'll… Probably be certifiable soon. Not exactly Selection ready."

Persia made a sound at the back of her throat, her fingers drumming against the side of her leg to call Beck back to heel before she could run off too far. "You say that like you _haven't_ been gleefully awaiting the day."

She was only a year older, so alright, realistically Persia couldn't recall any of the time leading up to Stefan's arrival. And yet, when she really thought about it, she was almost certain she could remember Jordan's eager anticipation of him. A change from his sister Mara, who by five was already well into her evolution into… Well. _Mara_. And he hadn't disappointed. Until he seemingly realized how much more worthwhile it was to mock Jordan than to merely entertain him. It was a rare privilege, having the free rein to dig beneath the skin of a crown prince; since discovering it, Stefan had never looked back.

"What can I say? I really do care. He's my cousin, same as you." He gave a charming smile just as his eyes caught the light, and Persia smiled back reflexively. She had spent more time with this cousin of hers in the past few years than with the rest of their family combined, and it showed; the reaction was unstoppable.

_"Right."_ She drawled. The single word rolled against her tongue. "Then you worry for the suffering soon to come." _Like I do._

"Oh?" The tone of Stefan's voice changed to accommodate the less than gentle mocking, that gentle smile curving widely. "Should I ready the guards? Who we after, Persia?"

"You are _not_ that dense." And- "Don't lie to _me."_

"If you are referring to the Chamomile Debacle," _Obviously_. "And my plans to give him to the minute updates to her Selection, then yes." He blinked innocently, just short of fluttering his eyelashes for the effect. "Chastain is a very important foreign ally, you know. It's in everyone's best interest if he knows who exactly is going to be standing beside its future ruler." _Prat_. Whatever he was going for with that innocent look, it shattered like glass against those grins. "The inside of his head will be even worse than usual."

The sun was very slowly shifting its position overhead. The shadows were longer than they had been before, even broken apart by the trees and one another. The snow beneath lay uneven, deflected this way and that by the branches above, though where there were no trees, it remained a neat coat. No one else had walked this way at least since the last fall. The thought pleased her.

"They should be calling me back pretty quickly." Persia said, ignoring the faint knotting of involuntary guilt at her core at how quickly the simple thought soured her mood. "First there's his birthday, and then the Selection itself."

"He'll need you there just to keep his head on straight. Even if it weren't your duty. He called you already? Of course he did."

Persia held up her wrist in answer, showing off the simple silver bracelet he already knew was there. "My notice should be in before the day's out." She huffed quietly. It really was summer now; no cloud of water vapor accompanied the motion. "And you'll be there too. Because _you really do care for your cousin_." _Don't you?_ "Won't you?"

"Of course. How could I miss supporting dear Jordan in his year of need?"

"Good." She nodded. "You can come with me first thing tomorrow then, unless you somehow think they _won't_ be shipping me back on the same plane that letter arrives by."

"Fine." She already knew he would. "But just so you know, I'll be expecting payment for my last minute packing troubles. Coffee. Double Shot Espresso, or I haunt you."

"Well that would be different." Stefan was trying to look offended. Like he thought she was some amateur. "Come on, it's past time for lunch." She smirked. "Since that dime broke you, _I'll_ pay."

"Everything here already belongs to you."

"I do feel haunted."

Like she could ever escape _him_.

* * *

**Authors' Note**

**Muse Calliope: _Quick disclaimer before we start: Thalia is from Texas, and I'm… Really just kind of cutely pathetic. Neither author has ever tried snowboarding. So, if you have, and you find my (brief) description less than satisfactory, I am very sorry. _**

**Muse Thalia: _This chapter featuring our kingmaker Persia and her incredibly…. Lovingly evil cousin Stefan was brought to you by the amazing support and submissions we got so far. We thank you all! Bear with out small chapters for now(They get longer as we go. Trust us). We prefer quality over quantity and since this story ball hasn't really started rolling yet, the next few chapters will center around our characters and Pre-Selection madness. Please look forward to reading Chamomile packing next chapter. Sure to be a thriller with explosions and Die Hard-like action sequences. Probably not, but hey… We all love unrealistic madness. _**

**Muse Calliope: _I mean, we're _here_, basically writing _The Bachelor_… Which I also know nothing about._ **

**Muse Thalia: _Can't wait for actual chaos to start. Muwahahahahahaha!_**

**Muse Calliope: _My evil stands on its own, no laugh required. Thanks, everyone! _**

**Muse Thalia: _Please feel free to Read, Review, Follow, and/or Favorite this story or us! PMs are also fine too if reviews make you shy. :D_**


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